The Great Fa Mulan
by Araeph
Summary: A scribe decides to write an account of China's famous heroine. Naturally, it doesn't occur to him to ask HER about her own life, so he bases the biography on other reliable sources: rumors, gossip, and Chi Fu. The result isn't pretty.
1. Cause

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Mulan or any of its various characters, plotlines, etc. Zhang is an original character, but Disney can have him, too, if it really wants.

* * *

**Part I: Cause**

_Fa Mulan: Heroine or Hussy?_

It was a good beginning. Shun Wei-Zhang brushed excess ink off of his brush and titled his first scroll, satisfied that he before he was through, he would give anyone who wanted to know an up-close and personal glimpse of the woman who had saved all of China. He had taken great care to the gather his sources from trustworthy spectators, many firsthand observers of Fa Mulan's life and military career. He himself was an accomplished and learned writer. With any amount of luck, he would be able to put forth a definitive biography.

Despite owing its continued existence to Fa Mulan, China really knew very little about her. Quite a few people had seen her, but only briefly: some had caught a glimpse of her fighting Shan-Yu on the rooftop, and others had seen her sliding down a rope strung with lanterns. Several thousand had bowed to her, to be sure, but as they were looking down at the ground at the time, this wasn't much help.

Discussions about what the impetuous young heroine had actually done were spreading over China like...like...what would be a good simile? Zhang bit his lip. Wildfire? No. A flood? Definitely not. A plague, maybe?

Anyway, he concluded, discussions raged about the nature of her deed. Was she truly filial, to have taken her father's place in so un-traditional a station? Was she a genius, or just lucky? Could she really fight, or was she a mere trickster? Had her success really come from herself, or did she owe it all to adoring swains in the Imperial Army? Zhang knew of at least one rumor that pegged her character at the third option. One of the soldiers in her regiment had let it slip while drunk, something about her standing up naked in the middle of the lake and announcing herself "Queen of the Rock," followed by her biting one of the bathing soldiers on the behind and then complaining about the nasty flavor. But even Zhang admitted that that one probably had little truth to it.

No, the various accounts he had gleaned from eyewitnesses were much more accurate than that.

Zhang rubbed his eyes as he pored over this source for the fifth time. It was his most recent finding, a transcript of an interview with one of the soldiers from the Wu Zhong camp. The soldier had had a slightly vacant expression, but what did that matter? No doubt his memory was sharper than the rest of his brain...

* * *

"I didn't talk to him much after the first day," the soldier said with a gap-toothed grin, "because not a lot of us wanted to speak to him. He spilled the rice and got us all in a fight."

"Her," reminded Zhang.

The soldier nodded enthusiastically. "Right. Her."

As a footnote, Zhang had written, _She shows an inability to get along with comrades._

"Anyway, the first day. Well, Yao had just finished punching me." His vapid grin disappeared for a second. "I paid a lot of money for that dragon tattoo, and where did it get me? Nowhere!"

"And then?" Zhang had prompted irritably.

"So then, he—"

"Yao?"

"No, Mulan."

"So then, what did she do?"

"Well, he—"

"She."

"Yeah, she, sorry about that. Right then, she slapped Yao's butt to make friends."

_Must resort to groping recruits in order to socialize,_ was Zhang's next note.

"And then he said something about food, and then he punched him—"

"Who?"

"Mulan."

"Mulan punched herself?"

"No, he punched Yao, who punched back—"

"Yao punched Mulan?"

"No, Yao punched Ling."

"But you said—"

"And then he grabbed his foot—"

"Ling's foot?"

"No, Mulan."

"Mulan grabbed Ling's foot?"

"No, Yao grabbed his foot, but then he kicked him into the other guy—"

"What other guy?"

"And then he started to punch him, and Yao too, and then he said, 'You're dead!' and then they all went running after him."

"After Mulan?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Can I go now? I just bought this good-luck talisman to ward off evil, and I haven't gotten a chance to test—"

The man hadn't been able to finish, as he was suddenly accosted by three armed robbers.

* * *

It was probably a good thing, in retrospect—Zhang had been about to gag Tattoo Man and force him to listen to an hour-long lecture on ambiguous pronouns. Instead, Zhang had fled the scene, but it had been worth the hassle. He had added the interview to his growing stockpile of information, and looking over it now, he felt that it complemented another bit of insight into the heroine of China...

* * *

"I am glad that my sister has found a successful match," said Zhang, bowing to the Matchmaker. "As her only guardian, I have been hard-pressed to take care of her."

"Young women are always a burden to their families until they are married off," said the Matchmaker. "I completely understand. Why, a good friend of mine just told me about an awful candidate who practically burned down her house!"

Zhang's eyes widened. "Was it really that bad?"

"Oh, yes!" The Matchmaker's voice had softened to a whisper. "It was Fa Mulan, you know."

There was an intake of breath.

"Madam," said Zhang reverently, "if you can tell me all you know, I shall reward you handsomely."

"Oh!" The Matchmaker looked pleased. "It's no trouble. Tzi Wu told me that Mulan wasn't doing well on her test, and that in revenge, Mulan put a cricket down her Matchmaker's dress, then shoved her onto blazing hot coals. She was brutal even before the war, I tell you. She then fanned the flames in an attempt to spread the fire."

Zhang tugged on his beard thoughtfully. "If I recall correctly, she also managed to ignite a significant portion of the Emperor's palace."

The Matchmaker gasped. "Could there be a connection?"

Zhang's eyes narrowed in concentration. "We shall see. She certainly has a strong destructive capacity..."

* * *

The scribe shook his head at the memory. Women were such gossips; they'd spill their hearts and souls to get men to listen to them, even blurting out scandalous things in public. Ah, well, so much the better for his project. As he finished grinding his ink stick against the well, Zhang looked over his best and most prestigious source of knowledge...

* * *

"Destructive capacity? I'll say," said the Emperor's consul with a voice that dripped disdain. "Did you know that in her first battle, she gave away our position and then set the cannon wagon on fire? Then, she ran away from it without helping at all!"

Zhang's brow wrinkled. "But what about the cannon at the Tung Shao Pass?" he inquired.

Chi Fu waved his spindly hand dismissively. "Luck," he said. "The captain's orders were to aim the cannon at Shan Yu. That idiot girl tried to aim for the villain...he was three feet away, from what I hear...and missed by several yards, even so!"

"From what you hear?" Zhang was puzzled. "Weren't you there?"

"My vision was... obscured by a rather large outcropping at the time." Chi Fu fidgeted. "Anyway, surely you are not here to chronicle _my _bravery. You must surely praise _her _to the skies!"

"We'll see about that," said Zhang firmly. "What else can you tell me about her?"

"That captain, Li Shang, obviously was soft on her because of her gender. Otherwise, he would never have let her live. It is not a good policy for a commanding officer to bring in his mistress to camp, but unfortunately, Captain Li has not had the experience befitting one of his rank. His appointment, I am sorry to say, was merely due to the General's nepotism. Still, his conduct is not to be wondered at. That Fa girl was certainly flaunting her charms for all they were worth...hoping to get a match, I daresay."

"Were her charms noticeable as Ping, then?"

"Do you think I noticed?" squeaked the toady, looking stricken. "I, thankfully, am above such temptations. Besides, I don't have to ogle her—I can have any woman I want!" He flexed his stringy biceps and smiled greasily.

Zhang let this last statement pass without comment.

* * *

"I think, between these and a few other snippets, I have enough material," said the scribe in satisfaction. "The rumors about Mulan and the captain are particularly...marketable." He dipped his brush once more. His research had been thorough and varied; the biography would not take long to complete. 


	2. Effect

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Mulan or any of its various characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

**Part II: Effect**

_"Oh, Shang!" Mulan looked down at her feet and blushed. "Thank you so much for letting me be the one to get the Emperor's crest. It really should have been you."_

_"You are worth it," said Li Shang, gazing dreamily into his beloved's chocolate brown orbs. "I am only sorry that I wasn't able to look out for you."_

_She smiled shyly at her lover. "Your promise of marriage made it all worth it."_

_"Your father was very pleased."_

_"Yes." Tears formed in Mulan's beautiful eyes. "I am only sorry that—that—"_

_Shang looked anxiously at his beloved, panicking at the thought of this delicate flower weeping. "What is it?"_

_"My beautiful hair is all gone," she sniffled. "And so is my reputation. Now people will look at me in the marketplace and whisper! Killing thousands of men was one thing, but people saying mean things about me? I can't help being shaken to the core of my being! They're saying I was your mistress!"_

_Shang blinked. "Weren't you?"_

_She nodded sulkily. "But it wasn't like _that. _You know! They make it sound so awful!"_

_"Mmm." Shang's gaze had drifted over to her lips. As the sobbing beauty trembled before him, Shang held her in his strong arms. Mulan sighed, glad she was home and that Shang was here to protect her from any and all..._

"Excuse me?"

Zhang whirled around, startled. There, standing before him, was a lithe young woman with short hair. She didn't look awkward in the least; the same could not be said for the scribe.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," offered the girl. "You were whispering something...something about protecting?"

Zhang gave her a curt nod. "I didn't hear you enter. Who are you?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Oh, just a disinterested third party."

It didn't take Zhang very long to work out who was standing in front of him.

"Who let you in here?" he asked. "Not that it isn't an honor to meet you, and all that," he added hastily. "But..."

"One of your servants," said Fa Mulan, smiling genially. "He told me that you would be delighted to meet the object of your study." Her brow creased slightly. "I am still unused to being the topic of so much discussion..." Her expression cleared. "It doesn't matter. I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mr...?"

"Shun Wei-Zhang," said Zhang, somewhat unsteadily. His fine manuscript suddenly seemed a little less eloquent than before.

"Sir, may I see the work?" Mulan ventured. She peered over his shoulder. "Is that it?" She pointed to the scroll taking up most of the table.

"Uh..." Zhang trailed off. "I haven't finished yet. It has to be, um, edited, and—"

"Don't worry." Mulan beamed at him. "I'll only correct you if the scroll says something untruthful about me. Now, who was I protecting?"

"I...beg your pardon?"

"You know. What you muttered under your breath about 'protecting from any and all harm.' Did I misunderstand you?"

"N-no, but—" Where was his confidence? This girl managed to unnerve him without showing the least sign of bad temper. Perhaps it was her quiet self-assurance that discomfited him.

"I'll just take a look, then, if you don't mind." Before he could invent another excuse, she had leaned down and snatched the scroll from the table, unrolling it all the way so that she could read from the beginning.

"Master," interrupted a servant timidly while Mulan was perusing the scroll. "Three men are here to see you. They claim to be friends of the heroine."

"Humph." Zhang folded his arms across his chest. "So does everyone, these days."

Mulan looked up, her face slightly less friendly than when she had first started reading. "Three? Sir, I believe they really are my friends. Would you mind if I invited them in?"

Zhang found that he was speechless.

"I...suppose..."

"Thank you." She gave him another smile, though this time, there appeared to be a bit of a predatory gleam about it. "Since you know so much about me, I'm sure you've guessed their names already."

All of a sudden, there was a commotion in the hallway. Zhang felt a headache coming on.

"Ta-da!" exclaimed a short, burly soldier. "Are we late, Mulan?"

The young woman glanced at her friend, who was backed up by a lankier young man dressed in yellow. From the doorway, the large blue-clad belly of the third man was visible, but nothing more. "It's all right. I've just started reading."

"Yeah?" The soldier that Zhang assumed was Ling tried to steal a glance at Zhang's work. "What's it say?"

"I haven't gotten far enough to tell." Mulan's expression clouded suddenly. "There's one thing I would like to ask you, Sir," to Zhang. "Why am I always referred to as a_ girl_ trying to be a man?"

Of all of the things she chose to criticize, she selected _that? _"I don't understand, Fa Mulan. Aren't you a girl?"

She put one hand on her hip. With the other, she indicated Yao. "What's he?"

"A man," said Zhang, nonplussed.

Now she pointed Ling's way. "And he is...?"

"A man, of course," said Zhang impatiently.

"And if I were disguised as Ping, I too would be a man?"

"That's right." Zhang utterly failed to see what she was getting at.

Both hands were now on her hips. "Then I am interested to know why I am not a _woman_ among men."

"Well...you're young..."

Mulan raised an eyebrow. "They're not much older than I am, Ling especially. Why don't you refer to the recruits as _boys_?"

"I...uh...well, 'men' sounds stronger."

"So, what does 'girl' sound like?"

Zhang gulped. He hadn't thought about it that way before.

"I'll...I'll try to rectify that," he told her.

She inclined her head graciously. "I was also wondering..." She indicated the parchment. "You seem to think that I succeeded, and I quote, 'in spite of her inferior fighting skills.' May I ask why?"

Zhang didn't have to answer, for at that moment Ling grabbed at the scroll. "Let me see that!" he said indignantly.

"You'll smudge it," Zhang began weakly, but Ling wasn't listening.

"'Shang, not being able to see a woman suffer, helped her along?' 'He tried to shelter her, even when the last cannon misfired?' 'The Emperor's consul struggled against this sympathetic feelings to maintain his IMPARTIALITY during the mission!'"

Yao laughed uproariously. "Way to use the sarcasm, Mr. Shun!" he guffawed.

"Yeah," chortled Ling. "You weren't telling us you were doing a parody! Look, Yao, it says that we treated 'Ping' extra-gently during training!"

"Heh heh!"

"And that once you got home, Mulan, you felt so insecure that you had to be encircled by Shang's strong, protecting arms to feel safe while you cried into his shirt!"

"BWAHAHAHA!"

"Um, guys—" Mulan began.

Ling waved the parchment in her direction. "You want it back? It has some beautiful battle strategy—apparently, we outnumbered the Huns ten to one, since the General's army had already finished most of them off!" He laughed as he handed her the parchment.

This time, there was no mistaking the displeasure on Mulan's face. "Guys, I really don't think he was joking."

There was dead silence. Soon to be followed by a dead Shun Wei-Zhang, if the looks he was getting from Mulan, Yao, and Ling were any indication.

"He...he can't be serious! Anyone who knew _anything _about you would know that you were nothing like that whining, passive, man-dependant ninny he described! And _he's _done all of his research!"

"I did speak to Chi Fu, among others," said Zhang defensively. "He told me everything I needed to know!"

The three glanced at each other. Yao started cracking his knuckles.

"First of all," said Mulan sweetly, "While I do get teary-eyed on occasion, I never cried in front of _anyone_ the whole time I went to war. Second, I do not need to feel 'safe' in Shang's arms. In fact, he taught me to feel confident and safe within _myself_. That said, he did indeed visit me after the war; however, _he _was the one who needed comfort. His father recently died, in case you've forgotten. Not," she said tersely, "that I ever 'surrendered to his kiss' or any of that hogwash. If I want a kiss, I think I can get it for myself...and I don't. Speaking of which, we're an unmarried man and woman, and while I've certainly broken with tradition to save my father's life, that doesn't mean that I have in any way cheapened myself. Grant us a little self-control, if you please. Finally..." She brought her face very close to his. "Chi Fu squeals when someone damages his slippers. I only scream when a Hun leaps at me through the roof."

_Eep, _thought Zhang. He backed away rapidly—

— And, very much like Mulan once had, smacked back first into Chien-Po.

"Going somewhere?" said the soldier pleasantly, when Zhang started.

Zhang mumbled something vague about needing more ink.

"Oh," said Chien-Po amiably, "I'll be happy to help you get it." He lifted Zhang clear off his feet with one hand and deposited him outside his house. As Zhang hurriedly brushed himself off, he heard Chien-Po asking, "Do you need us for anything else?"

"No, that's all," said Mulan. "Thanks for coming, though. I wanted to make sure I had people with me who could corroborate my version of the story."

"The real version?"

"That's the one."

Zhang didn't wait to say his farewells to the guests. He scampered down the path and made his way along the road as quickly as possible.

"At least I won't get beaten to a pulp out he—OOF!"

Very suddenly, his face was in the mud. Zhang blinked and tried to clear his head, but found his arms pinned and his legs kicking uselessly from his prone position. A pair of hands reached down and relieved him of his string of money, while another yanked off his embroidered shoes.

"Nice catch," said a rough voice. "Turn him on his back—see if we can't steal that silk robe."

A moment and several unpleasant shoves later, Zhang found himself looking up at the three thieves from the day before.

"Wha...?" he managed to say before he was cuffed on the head.

"Thought you could escape us, couldn't you?" said one, sniggering. "Listen, just because those four soldiers followed you home—"

"WHAT?"

Whack!

"No _talking, _you ass. They might have been looking out for you yesterday, but since we didn't get their comrade, we decided to wait for you."

Somehow, Zhang's brain caught up with the situation. When it did, it nearly imploded. The man with the dragon tattoo hadn't been robbed, after all—Mulan and her friends had saved him! Then, they had followed Zhang home...why? The answer was obvious, and of course, extremely uncomfortable. It was the duty of every soldier to protect the citizens of the Middle Kingdom from harm. That's how Fa Mulan had found out about him and his project!

Thinking back to his once-precious document, Zhang felt a very rare twinge of guilt. Some revising was definitely in order...if he lived to return to his house.

"YOU SCUM!" bellowed one of the thieves. Zhang cringed for the final blow.

"Who, us?" asked a voice innocently. There was the sound of footsteps approaching. "I thought we warned you about prowling around for victims."

The criminal sneered at his opponent. "No girl will—"

"Woman," muttered Zhang from his position on the ground.

A boot kicked him in the ribs. Suddenly, there was a war cry, followed by what sounded like a flurry of blows. Zhang forced him to sit up and watch Fa Mulan—alone—taking on the three thugs.

It was, he admitted grudgingly, nothing short of inspiring.

When she was done, Mulan motioned to Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po, who lifted the badly bested robbers one at a time onto their shoulders. Meanwhile, Mulan walked calmly over to Zhang and offered him her hand. "Need some help?"

Zhang grasped at the hand, which was surprisingly strong. Also, callused. He wasn't expecting that...foolish of him, really. Her hands wouldn't be silky smooth after all of that rough soldiers' work.

As Mulan helped Zhang to his feet, he gave her a scrutinizing glance. "You might have left me."

The woman warrior shook her head. "It wouldn't be right. I believe in second chances."

"Why didn't you ask those three to step in? Not that I'm doubting your abilities, it's just that—that you shouldn't trouble yourself."

"They're my friends, not my henchmen," said Mulan simply. "I could handle it, so I did. Besides, you need to finish writing your account of me."

Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

Zhang felt his face turn red. "That dreadful story?"

"Oh, I don't know." She was laughing now. "I spotted a sentence or two that was accurate." She shrugged. "If you really wanted to know what my life was like, you could have asked me."

That took him aback. "But—but I didn't think you'd actually tell me what happened!"

"And now?" She glanced at him meaningfully. "Would you allow me an interview?"

"You mean..." Zhang gaped at her. She was still willing to associate him...even better, to help him write a _real _account of Fa Mulan. Suddenly, Zhang pressed his hands together and bowed to this extraordinary woman. "I would be privileged to be in your presence."

"Tomorrow, then, mid-afternoon? I'm in the Imperial City for a week. The Emperor has invited me...well. I'll tell you all about it." Her eyes narrowed, though her tone was still playful. "After all, women are such gossips...we'll say just about _anything_ to get some attention."

**The End

* * *

**

So...this is my first attempt at Mulan fanfiction. Bad? Good? Mediocre? Send a review, if you wish. Only, please be more honest than Shun Wei-Zhang. Thanks!


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